


In Which Kobra and Ghoul are Shitheads

by Writing_Doodle



Series: Not So Dangerous Days [10]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen, and poison is so tired, i really don't have any tags for this, just some good light hearted fun, kobra and ghoul are little shits, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:43:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8639323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writing_Doodle/pseuds/Writing_Doodle
Summary: Ghoul stretched himself out, resting his legs on Kobra’s lap. Kobra was resting his elbow against the window and watching the desert roll by. They both looked way too calm, considering their clothes were burnt to shit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> prompt from my killjoys blog! i had fun writing this, even though it ended up being like 90% dialog! it was supposed to be shippy, but it ended up being really really lowkey lmao

“You’re both fucking idiots.” Jet sighed as they drove away from wreckage. 

“I almost had a heart attack _twice_.” Poison twisted around to glare at his brother and the human personification of chaos in the backseat. “It’s not funny, Ghoul.”

Ghoul, who wasn’t even laughing, rose his hands in surrender. He stretched himself out, resting his legs on Kobra’s lap. Kobra was resting his elbow against the window and watching the desert roll by. They both looked way too calm, considering their clothes were burnt to shit.

“We made it out.” Was all Ghoul said with an all too smug grin. He elbowed Kobra slightly and Kobra rose his eyebrows in affirmation.

“Barely.” Jet muttered. 

“You’re fixing your own damn clothes.” Poison added, smiling when Kobra and Ghoul both groaned. 

-

“I thought you knew how to sew?” Kobra asked, staring at his shirt that now had a gigantic hole on the side. 

“I can stitch _skin_ , not fuckin’… _clothes_.” Ghoul made a face at his similarly ruined shirt. “Even if I could, I don’t think I’d be able to. There’s too much fabric missing.”

“We fucked up.” 

“It was fun, though, wasn’t it?”

“Hell yeah.” Kobra smiled and fist bumped Ghoul. He looked back at his shirt and frowned. “I liked this shirt, too.”

Ghoul patted his back. “They can’t all survive the war.” He dug through a pile of clothes and pulled on a black tank top that almost went to his knees. 

“Isn’t that Poison’s?”  

“Motherfucker isn’t helping us fix our clothes, I get to steal his.”

Kobra pondered on that. “Yeah, that’s fair.” He got up and dug through the pile, too. “You’re lucky that you’re so short. Everyone’s clothes automatically fit you.”

“Oh, drive side street.” Ghoul hit him and Kobra laughed. “I can’t fit in any of your clothes, you’re too damn skinny. I’ll suffocate.” 

“You’re already suffocating under all that fabric, that shirt’s big even on Poison.” 

“Then tell your brother to buy better fitting clothes.” 

“It was Jet’s until Poison cut the sleeves off.” Kobra found an old tiger stripe t-shirt and tugged it on. He looked down at it. “This makes me look like a douche, doesn’t it?” 

“You’re always a douche, so you’re shiny.”

Kobra balled up his charred shirt and threw it at his face. “You’re an asshole.”

“Thanks.” Ghoul caught the shirt and examined it. “What the fuck are we going to do with these?”

“Have a funeral?” Kobra shrugged, picking up the other shirt. “You still have some matches left over after that roadshow, right? We can smoke them up.” 

“Oh great Phoenix Witch, accept our offering of burnt fabric! May you continue to block us from the Sun and pad us from the Sand.” Ghoul threw his hands up overdramatically, offering the ceiling Kobra’s charred tank top. Kobra got up, snatched the shirt, and hit Ghoul with it. 

“Don’t joke about that shit, or Destroya would come down from the sky and rain hell on your ass.” 

Ghoul scrunched up his face and stuck his tongue out. “You’re no fun.”

“Hey, I helped you turned a whole bunch of Dracs into bacon, because you wanted to test out a new bomb. I’m the _funnest_. Now _what the fuck are we gonna do with these clothes_?”

Ghoul thought so long and hard that Kobra was worried he was going to break something. Then suddenly, a smile spread across his face. A smile that both alarmed Kobra and piqued his interest. “Poison hasn’t traded in those scissors yet, right?”

“No, but why…” Kobra paused, suddenly understanding where Ghoul was going with this. “ _Ghoul, you’re a fucking genius._ ” 

-

“Why… the fuck… is Ghoul wearing your shirt as a headband?” Poison rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. The only word that can properly describe his expression was pained. 

“You didn’t want to help us with our clothes, so we had fun.” 

Poison looked at the crop top Kobra was proudly wearing. “That’s Ghoul’s shirt isn’t it?”

“Yep.” 

Poison looked at the sky. “Witch help me.” 

“You’re one to talk, aren’t you always stealing Jet’s clothes?”

Poison blushed almost as red as his hair. “That’s different! I’m not cutting up shirts that could’ve been traded!” 

“They were fucked anyway, bro.” Kobra patted his hair, stared at the dye that rubbed off on his hand, and wiped it on Poison’s arm. “Let us have fun, party pooper.”

Poison sputtered as Ghoul started to cackle. “Party Poison the Party Pooper!”

He threw his hands up. “Fine! God, you’re both awful.” He stormed back into the diner as Kobra and Ghoul high fived. 

**Author's Note:**

> comments are my Life Blood


End file.
